“I could tell you better if we knew whether the men referred to by the officers are the enemies of the Fontenelles or just plain river pirates seeking to seize the Rambler. What do you think?”
“So far as that is concerned,” Clay replied, “it makes but little difference. They all give us trouble, and I propose for once that we run away from them. I’m more in love with the river than the men we’re likely to meet on it, so we’ll get to the quiet spots.”
“Do you mean that we ought to go back to the Rambler right now and cut Montreal off our visiting list?” asked Jule.
“In my judgment, that is what we ought to do.”
Jule faced about instantly and started toward the river.
“Come on then!” he said. “I’m game for it!”
The boy had turned under the impulse of the moment without sensing that he was on a crowded pavement in the heart of a big city. As he swung about, he almost bumped noses with a pedestrian who, in company with another, had been walking only a couple of yards behind him.
The man was clothed in the garb of a waterside character, but it was very plain to the boy that the costume had been assumed for the purpose of disguise. His complexion was smooth and clear, his eyes keen and penetrating, and his whole manner and attitude proclaimed education and native refinement. For an instant Jule and the man stood looking each other squarely in the eyes.
“Step aside, lad, step aside,” said the disguised man, in a voice far from unpleasant. “Don’t be blocking the way.”
“Is this your street?” demanded Jule willing to continue the conversation in order that he might have a more prolonged view of the man opposite him. “If it is, you better take it with you when you go on.”